


Shadow

by lypiphaera



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Outbound Flight - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Ghosts, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 06:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20737553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lypiphaera/pseuds/lypiphaera
Summary: Thrass never leaves Thrawn's side.





	Shadow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shanlyrical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanlyrical/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Тень](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25357066) by [Eleonora_Alva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eleonora_Alva/pseuds/Eleonora_Alva), [fandom Galactic Empire 2020 (Team_Galactic_Empire)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Team_Galactic_Empire/pseuds/fandom%20Galactic%20Empire%202020)

"Thrawn."

His brother's back stiffened, as it so often did when Thrass approached him, at least lately. Thrass maneuvered himself adroitly between the members of the bridge crew and came to stand by Thrawn's commander's chair, gazing at the holoprojections circling around Thrawn. Data scrolling by, dates and coordinates and inventory lists; on the other side, glowing red and blue dots scattered across a starmap, indicating enemy positions and the positions of Thrawn's ships. Thrawn would be able to string them all together to make a cohesive plan of attack.

With the assistance of his art, of course. But he never looked at that on the bridge.

Thrass had never cared overmuch about military strategy in the past, beyond what he needed to know in his role as Syndic, but as the decades rolled by and his memories grew hazy, he clung to this new knowledge, trying to use it to escape the memories that were vivid: those unbearable few seconds of excruciating pain before everything went dark. Lorana Jinzler, screaming. The utter certainty that he was right, that he was making the correct decision, fleeing him in the face of all that pain.

And had it been the right choice in the end? Thrass thought so.

Thrass laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. Thrawn went rigid under his touch.

"I don't blame you, you know," Thrass informed him. "The choice was mine, and mine alone."

Thrawn said nothing. He never did anymore. Thrass missed speaking with him, his ambitious, driven brother, focused on the protection of the Chiss and nothing else. Not even his family. Not even Thrass.

Oh, he didn’t know what was going to happen, certainly. The initial plan had been, if not solid, then good enough. But, when Thrass thought about it, he was nearly sure that Thrawn would make the same decision with _Outbound Flight_ again. Would still send Thrass off to die. Would determine that he was a fair price to pay for the safety of the Ascendancy. It would cut at him; it would make him ache. But he would still do it.

Thrawn bore blood-guilt for that. That was why Thrass was here.

The Chiss had moved beyond religion, or so they liked to say, but Thrass had been aware of the myths when he was alive. Ghosts, haunting the souls of the person responsible for their murder. According to those myths, he was limited in the words he could say — he could only blame or absolve, nothing else.

But he could still touch.

He glanced around the bridge, the bustling humans in their ugly grey-green uniforms. He had been visiting Thrawn for a long time, but still hadn’t gotten used to the humans or the brutality of the Empire.

Still, they weren’t paying very close attention.

Thrass moved to straddle Thrawn, his ghostly hands resting on his shoulders, pressing his torso close against his brother's. His brother, his lover — what else was there to say? They had been everything to each other, and Thrass knew he had never been replaced. He had been at Thrawn's side for decades; he would have seen.

A small, bitter part of him was glad of it; glad that Thrawn still mourned, that he had never sought anyone to fill the gaping hole in his heart. But most of him sorrowed for his brother, his lonely, proud brother.

His lips against Thrawn's neck. He felt Thrawn swallow, felt him tense even more. It was bold of Thrass to do this on the bridge, in front of others, who would wonder why their commanding officer was so quiet and stiff. But Thrawn was now old enough to control the reactions of his body. He had lived far beyond the age that Thrass ever would.

"Brother," Thrass whispered against his ear, and nipped at his earlobe. Thrawn twitched minutely. "Brother, at times I wonder if you even cared at all."

Thrawn's eyes slid to meet Thrass' gaze. He was the only one who could see Thrass, and Thrass liked it when he looked at him. It made him feel alive, a rarer and rarer occurrence as the years passed.

"But I know you did," Thrass continued meditatively, running a finger along the blue column of Thrawn's throat. The hairs on Thrawn's neck stood up. "And that's why I forgive you."

He rocked his hips against Thrawn's. He could no longer feel arousal, but Thrawn's could, and a streak of perversity made Thrass want Thrawn's body to respond to his ghostly touch.

It was more sensation than Thrawn had felt in decades. He made a small noise, unnoticeable to anyone but Thrass, and his fingers tightened on the armrests of his chair.

"Come with me," Thrass said into his ear. "Don't bring the bodyguard. Just me and you, like old times."

Thrawn stood. If Thrass had still been embodied, he would have spilled to the floor, but as it was, he flickered — an indescribable sensation, as if his brain had skipped a beat, and suddenly he was on his feet again. He was only solid when touching Thrawn.

"I will be in my command room," Thrawn said curtly to the captain. "Do not disturb me."

Thrass flickered again. In the state between the living world and the ghostly one, where he could see the other shades haunting members of the crew, with or without their awareness, it was easier to follow Thrawn than walking. His brother was a bright beacon, a tether that drew Thrass back to the living. Thrass drifted alongside him, half-aware of the rest of the world.

"Stay here, Rukh," Thrawn ordered his alien bodyguard. The alien was surrounded by shades, ghosts of people he'd killed. Thrass wondered if he could sense them.

Then Thrawn stepped into the command room and turned, his eyes glowing hot with — anger? Despair? It had always been so hard to read Thrawn.

"You torment me," he said in a low, savage voice. It look Thrass a moment to realize Thrawn was addressing him, for the first time in — ten years? Fifteen? "Has it not been long enough? Have I not paid the price of my actions yet?"

"Ah, Thrawn." Thrass laid a hand on his cheek, tender. His brother did not flinch away. "It will never be enough."

Thrawn closed his eyes. "Then you will never go away."

"Is my presence so unbearable?" Thrass asked. His hand slid down Thrawn's face to his neck, then to the collar of his white tunic. "Do you truly wish to be rid of me?"

He unbuttoned the top button, then the second. Curved his hand around Thrawn's throat. He could feel Thrawn's pulse there, wild and alive. He wanted to press his body to Thrawn's, to feel his warmth, to taste the salt of his sweat.

Thrawn's breath was uneven. Thrass pressed his lips to the hollow of his throat.

"It would be easier," Thrawn whispered, "without you."

Then his hands on Thrass' waist, tugging him closer until their bodies were flush against each other. One finger under Thrass' chin, tilting his head up to kiss him.

"So cold," Thrawn murmured.

"Such is life after death," Thrass said. "It's always cold here."

"I am sorry," Thrawn said, pulling back from the kiss and resting his forehead against Thrass'. "If there was a different path, I would have chosen it."

"And if there wasn't?" Thrass asked.

Thrawn raised his eyes, defiant.

"I would do it again," he said, but the pain in his voice was like the sound of breaking bones.

Something hummed in Thrass' chest, the chime of mourning bells.

“I forgive you, brother,” he said softly. “I just want you to forgive yourself.”

He wouldn’t, Thrass knew.

He kissed Thrawn again, and said nothing. He could only blame or absolve, but if that absolution was not accepted, there was nothing Thrass could do about it.

So Thrass would stay here, half-in, half-out of the living world, an ever-present echo at Thrawn's side.


End file.
